My name is Zita Deringer. According to my records, however, I am Abel Freidmann, fifteen years old, from Potsdam, and, most importantly, male. I joined the Great War under this pretext--leaving behind my old friends in Potsdam for a life of bloody patriotism with the new. Of course I'm scared. My cover could get blown, my plane could combust, I could just get shot dead during a raid.But I’m gonna keep on fighting.
Because I havepridein my country. Because I am strong. Because no bloody Frenchmen are gonna order us around.
But most of all, because...
Me before joining the war.
Me after getting my disguise in place.
Here's the old slammer I got assigned recently. Lino named it Geoff a few days ago after his fat old uncle back in Berlin who used to paint signs until he was too fat to get up the ladder. :p
My friends after becoming POWs. Got taken a few weeks ago by the bloody French when the poison gas we launched backfired and incapacitated the front line.
I know at least Eberhardt's dead--I got a friendly tackle from his corpse a few days after when we stormed the French back.
A typical German helmet, for those wondering...They're so much more stylish than those bloody French helmets.
I mean, what is that thing on the front even supposed to be? A bloody palm tree?
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A German propaganda poster. The caption translates to "We'll teach you how to run!"
Date: December 15, 1914 Time: unknownI've been here--the Western Front, near Belgium--for more than a month, but holding a gun on someone still feels queer. That's why I've been switched to a pilot--not because of my personal comfort (like that'd ever happen), but 'cause I'm a lousy shot and nearly killed Lino yesterday when we got charged by the French. He's still cross, but he'll get over it... Hopefully before he does get killed.Sent a letter to my little brother Bastien a few days ago asking for food since he's the only one who knows where I am. Not entirely sure he can read, but hopefully he'll have the sense to show it to Mutti. I was stupid to run off without telling her.
...Tired. Will write more soon. Date: December 19, 1914 Time: unknown The pilots haven't been doing too much reconnoitering lately due to the bad weather, so I'm stuck back down in the trenches. As far as temperature goes, it's an improvement--everyone's constantly huddled together for warmth, and we recently intercepted a shipment of supplies that included blankets. The problem is when the fighting starts... but that's a given, so I shouldn't whine. After all, we're fighting for the glory of Germany and the revenge of our kin [Austria-Hungary]. This war will be a turning point in the history of Germany...One that survivors shall recount for years to come. I intend to be among them.
I've gotta go now. Be back soon.Date: December 24, 1914 Time: mid-afternoon Ithought Christmas celebrations would be forgotten on account of the war, but apparently these soldiers are huge Christians... I'm not particulary religious, but I'm not complaining about the break. After another charge against the Brits that miraculously only lost us a single soldier (Old man Eberhardt, and he was bound to go eventually), we came back to find that the sick soldiers had convinced a few of the nurses to gather a few pine boughs and arrange them in the infirmary. A few were even talking about sharing the festivities with the Brits...we'll see how that goes. Date: December 25, 1914 Time: noon Well, they've done it. I haven't clue why or how or by who it happened, but somehow the others got the pluck to head over to the British encampment--in broad daylight, no less--and ask them to join us in a Christmas celebration. Even more amazingly, they accepted!
I heard that their generals were proper mad at first, but our boys managed to warm them up to the idea. Now we're all scattered between the two bases with stale wine and half-rotted turkey, singing songs in both tongues and sharing homeland tales. The Brits aren't really all that bad out of war, I s'pose; I had one fellow telling me about his younger sister back in Britain who wanted to join the military with him! That made me laugh, though for different reasons than he thought. The fact remains, though, that we're all enemies--everything's going to be back to normal tomorrow.'Course, that's just my normal pessimism. A truce is a truce.
I'm going to go grab Lino some food now, he's improved a bit. Bbs.
I AM A WWI PILOT.
BUT I'M ALSO... A GIRL.
My name is Zita Deringer. According to my records, however, I am Abel Freidmann, fifteen years old, from Potsdam, and, most importantly, male.
I joined the Great War under this pretext--leaving behind my old friends in Potsdam for a life of bloody patriotism with the new.
Of course I'm scared. My cover could get blown, my plane could combust, I could just get shot dead during a raid.But I’m gonna keep on fighting.
Because I have pride in my country.
Because I am strong.
Because no bloody Frenchmen are gonna order us around.
But most of all, because...
My friends after becoming POWs. Got taken a few weeks ago by the bloody French when the poison gas we launched backfired and incapacitated the front line.
I know at least Eberhardt's dead--I got a friendly tackle from his corpse a few days after when we stormed the French back.
A typical German helmet, for those wondering...They're so much more stylish than those bloody French helmets.
I mean, what is that thing on the front even supposed to be? A bloody palm tree?
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Date: December 15, 1914 Time: unknownI've been here--the Western Front, near Belgium--for more than a month, but holding a gun on someone still feels queer. That's why I've been switched to a pilot--not because of my personal comfort (like that'd ever happen), but 'cause I'm a lousy shot and nearly killed Lino yesterday when we got charged by the French. He's still cross, but he'll get over it... Hopefully before he does get killed.Sent a letter to my little brother Bastien a few days ago asking for food since he's the only one who knows where I am. Not entirely sure he can read, but hopefully he'll have the sense to show it to Mutti. I was stupid to run off without telling her.
...Tired. Will write more soon.
Date: December 19, 1914 Time: unknown
The pilots haven't been doing too much reconnoitering lately due to the bad weather, so I'm stuck back down in the trenches. As far as temperature goes, it's an improvement--everyone's constantly huddled together for warmth, and we recently intercepted a shipment of supplies that included blankets. The problem is when the fighting starts... but that's a given, so I shouldn't whine. After all, we're fighting for the glory of Germany and the revenge of our kin [Austria-Hungary]. This war will be a turning point in the history of Germany...One that survivors shall recount for years to come. I intend to be among them.
I've gotta go now. Be back soon. Date: December 24, 1914 Time: mid-afternoon
I thought Christmas celebrations would be forgotten on account of the war, but apparently these soldiers are huge Christians... I'm not particulary religious, but I'm not complaining about the break. After another charge against the Brits that miraculously only lost us a single soldier (Old man Eberhardt, and he was bound to go eventually), we came back to find that the sick soldiers had convinced a few of the nurses to gather a few pine boughs and arrange them in the infirmary. A few were even talking about sharing the festivities with the Brits...we'll see how that goes.
Date: December 25, 1914 Time: noon
Well, they've done it. I haven't clue why or how or by who it happened, but somehow the others got the pluck to head over to the British encampment--in broad daylight, no less--and ask them to join us in a Christmas celebration. Even more amazingly, they accepted!
I heard that their generals were proper mad at first, but our boys managed to warm them up to the idea. Now we're all scattered between the two bases with stale wine and half-rotted turkey, singing songs in both tongues and sharing homeland tales. The Brits aren't really all that bad out of war, I s'pose; I had one fellow telling me about his younger sister back in Britain who wanted to join the military with him! That made me laugh, though for different reasons than he thought. The fact remains, though, that we're all enemies--everything's going to be back to normal tomorrow.'Course, that's just my normal pessimism. A truce is a truce.
I'm going to go grab Lino some food now, he's improved a bit. Bbs.
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